Widowmaker Drabbles
by snowfire12345
Summary: Just a collection of Widowmaker drabbles. Will range from T to M. Will take any suggestions involving Widowmaker.
1. Remember

Remember

"What do we have here? A little fly entangled in my web."

This can't be happening. She thought as she backed away from the approaching woman. Gone was the elegant bun and the pristine clothing and in their places a skin tight purple suit, whatever it is on her head, and a rifle. A fucking rifle. Maybe it was a hybrid due to the fact that this woman used it to snipe the leader of the country.

"Speak." Her elegant gloved finger lifted her chin. "Before I do something hmmm, should I say, inconvenient."

No this couldn't be her, she reasoned. The woman she knew would not wear something so obscene. She eyed the weapon between them and swallowed. Steeling her rapid heartbeat. Showing fear would be a mistake.

"Yo-you don't re-re-member m-me?" She wanted to kick herself. Way to not show fear. Idiot.

"Hmm?"

Her golden eyes narrowed slightly as she started to scan her face. She feels like a specimen under a microscope.

Her heart feels like it's going to explode.

Finally, she met the her golden orbs that seems to glow in the dark. Looking for any sign of recognition. Any emotion. It's like staring at a blank canvas.

And that's where she heard it, a loud humming noise accompanied by a strong gust of wind.

She squinted her eyes at the glare and tried to gather the strands of hair that whipped at her face.

"Well, that's my cue."

"Huh?"

Her fear doubled as she stared at the barrel of the gun slowly pointing at her.

"I cannot leave witnesses alive. You understand don't you, cher?"

"Amelie, please I-"

"Sh, This will all be over quickly."

Pain ripped through her skull as she collapsed on the ground.

 **AN: So I made this drabbles in another platform and thought to just put it here.**


	2. Le Coup de Foudre

**_Le Coup de Foudre_**

"Monsieur Lacroix, you must excuse me for a moment-"

"But of course, of course. Your duty as maire de Paris must not be hindered."

The mayor gave him a small smile as another man accompanied the mayor with the graying hair towards another room.

Gerard sighed. He shouldn't have agreed to this. He should've let Dr. Ziegler attend in Overwatch's behalf. But no. Like a boy trying to gain approval, he jumped into the situation.

Now he's stuck here rubbing elbows with the "échelons supérieurs" as they call themselves. Coming from a middle class family, the luxuries that this people spent on are really idiotic.

He could not grasp on why. Why would you buy something so useless? Or better yet why would you buy something so expensive when you could have it at a much lower price that is the same quality and durability?

He could only thank the manners and etiquette that came with his training as an agent. If not he could've just thrown a table at the nth entreprise peut who prattled about the sordid states of the impeccable Parisian roads.

Curse his patriotic pride.

He cast his gaze around the spacious ballroom. The mayor thought it was fitting to throw a party on the success of renovating the Louvre. They completely made the museum a cybernetic paradise; complete with security of the highest technology.

They saw it fit to build a memorial dedicated to the recent victory of humanity in the Omnic crisis. Hence, why he is here.

He sipped at his drink. He had already been bombarded with handshakes, praises, and gratitude about his service. The mayor was a beacon of light from the clogging darkness of obsequious la nuisance trying to gain his favor. The ladies are very eager. He must admit.

And now without the mayor, he can spy the others eyeing him again. Like délicieux macaron.

He swallowed. He does not want to entertain them.

He scanned the room once again for anyone to keep them at bay.

Something caught his eye. A kindred soul sharing his plight judging from the bored expression on her face.

Gerard approached her, his frame calm and composed while his pace quick. He can already see some people approaching at a distance.

He stopped in front of her. He was greeted with a raised eyebrow and a quick inspection of his physique. He couldn't help but preen at the gesture.

Up close, she looks like a marble statue. The contours of her face are perfect like it has been chiseled by an sculpter obsessed with creating his masterpiece. Her dressed molded perfectly with her curves and her hair wound into an impeccable bun.

"Bonsoir, Mademoiselle. May I ask a beautiful woman like you to honor me with a dance?"

She looked at him like he was an imbecile. He just grinned.

Maybe he really is an imbecile like Reyes has said. But it lead him to this beauty.

Gerard just waited for her to take his offered hand. Her eyes slanted into a glare. He can see the other gentlemen looking at him with amusement.

"I'd rather not. Monsieur..."

"Lacroix. Gerard Lacroix. And you are?"

"No one."

He chuckled. Now she's turning out to be a little challenge.

He likes challenges.

"Come now. I've given you my name. Won't you return the favor?"

"Hmm. How do I know that that is you're name?"

He offered again his hand.

"Well, cherie. You just have to trust me."

 **AN: If you have any suggestions, just state at the reviews or anything. I'll take any suggestions if I have time.**


	3. Je ne sais quoi

**_Je ne sais quoi_**

The gull of this man. She studied the offered hand. One part of her is wary and would want nothing more than to be left alone. And yet the other part is...intrigued. There's something about the man's eyes that is hypnotizing. And the challenging look on his face is making her feel irritated and somewhat excited. He is not the first man to be so bold.

She sighed. "Well, if I must."

She took his hand and he led her towards the dancefloor where several couples are already waltzing to the music.

She felt him place his hand on her hips and the other held her hand. His hands are particularly warm and the feeling of them are surprisingly pleasant. She returned the obligated hand placements and they swayed to the music.

She was shocked at how fluid his movements are. He matched her step by step and swing by swing and all the time starting at her eyes. His gaze is very...passionné. She could feel the rising heat on her cheeks.

"Mademoiselle, you are a grand danseur." Oh how would he react if he found out.

"You are not too bad yourself, Monsieur Lacroix, is it?"

He smirked. "Yes, now may I know your name?"

She finally conceded, "Amélie."

"Amélie..." He enunciated each syllable slowly letting it roll on his tongue.

"Well, Amélie, may I ask, what brings you here?"

"Why are you interrogating me?"

He chuckled. It was deep and she can see his shoulders move.

"I merely want to be acquainted, cherie."

The look on her face must be distrustful for he sighed and said, "I'm here to represent Overwatch."

She raised her brow. Ah yes, Overwatch. The organization that won humanity the war against the Omnics.

"Is that suppose to impress me?"

He let out a bark of laughter garnering the attention of those in close proximity.

"No, not at all."

The dip is quite unexpected and she found herself staring at his eyes again. His gaze is immonde. Carnal. It marked her. Promising her wicked things.

Shivers run down her body.

Oh mon Dieu.


	4. Nostalgie dela boue

**_Nostalgie de la boue_**

She laid on the floor, facing up at the broken glass ceiling of her home.

 _Home_.

She chuckled darkly at the concept.

Home? She does not have a home. This place is merely a base of her operations.

Moving her body felt like waddling through water with currents pushing her down.

 _Merde!_

She doesn't even have the strength to move her head let alone stand up. But with enough will power, she got the bottle of wine next to her side. Drinking from it required her to use both hands.

This must've been her second bottle. Or maybe her third? She remembered throwing the wine glass behind her and the sound of shattering followed. Or maybe she threw it on one of the windows due to the sound being louder than it should be?

Well, what a pity.

It's been months since she has been deployed from her last mission. The thrill of killing has been long gone now.

The alternative is impractical. She cannot replicate the thrill of the hunt but it offers a wide range of senses unfamiliar to her.

 _Emotions._ Amd along with them came the memories.

Hazy and incomprehensible. It plays through her eyes, the memory of another. This one can feel emotions like a normal person.

She can see the outline of two people one male and the other female. The former is strict and demands the discipline while the other is the opposite. Kind, caring, and loving.

They are both deeply treasured and loved by the person seeing them.

Other times she can feel a thrill running through this person's veins. It feels the same as her own but with less exertion from the other's part. The twirling, the leaps and the emotions. _Oh mon dieu!_ The emotions are strong! She feels alive. More alive than she will ever be.

And there is this man. He's always there. The memories that came along with him came with more clarity than the rest. His face is more vivid than the others. She can examine every contours of his face. The twinkle in his eyes, the softness of his lips, the sound of his laughter, and his smile.

These memories gives the strongest emotions. Sometimes she can feel a slow burning sensation all over her body which must be what pleasure feels like. She is not certain but one thing is for sure, she likes that emotion.

The one often came with it is- how should she place it? The skipping of her heart, the lightness that she can feel whenever she sees him like floating on air, the satisfaction whenever his arms envelop her. More satisfying than hitting her marks. The peak of being alive.

 _Love? Happiness?_ Then lastly, the pain. She doesn't know why but after the memories of this man fades, there's something inside her that clenches. The pain is worst than the physical ones she gets on the day to day basis. She hates this emotion.

Tears would be brimming in her eyes. That is why she hates this person whose memories that she posses. She is better off not having any emotions at all. The pain is not worth all those pleasant ones.

She gasp and put a hand on her chest. She can't control the sobs and the tears coming out. She clenched the hand on her chest. Above where her heart is placed. She gritted her teeth. The pain, oh the pain!

She screamed. It echoed throughout the empty château. She rolled on a fetal position and endured the pain. This is why it is impractical to have emotions. She's better off now.

 **AN: A friend suggested this. Please don't hate me.**


	5. Christmas Eve

**Christmas Eve**

She walked onto the familiar gravel path. The coat that she wears barely gave her any warmth and her breath barely made a discernible fog against the cold winter air. At first she didn't notice it but the first time she walked among the crowds in Paris, every exhale made a somewhat smoky appearance similar to that of exhaling a puff of cigarette. Fortunately, no one noticed the contrast of temperature she made or lack thereof.

Gravel gave way to snow and the familiar crunch of it made her relax. She's almost there.

Earlier this day, she got a surprise visit from a tolerable coworker. The little _salop_ was wandering around the castle touching everything that she takes interest in. There is no doubt that she is looking for a secret passage from the way she jiggles each knob, candle holder, the armor, and even the table. She began tilting the books on her shelf and that's where she intervened.

"What are you doing here?"

Her head whipped and she had the guile to smile.

"Good morning to you too, arania! My you're looking cheeky."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. walking past her, she rearranged the books on their rightful spot.

"I will repeat myself again, what are you doing here?"

She pouted and her arms went akimbo. She was wearing the same clothes she last saw her in. It gave no protection from the now freezing temperatures of the season. But then again neither is she feeling the cold. She couldn't care less if the intruder freeze to death. She'd prefer it if she did just that.

"Can't I just visit my favorite spider?"

She gave her a steely stare. It is as metallic as the ones she gave every leering male who dares take his chances.

"How do you know where I am?"

She smiled mischievously and traced her fingers on the shelf.

"Oh, I know everything about everyone."

She grabbed the framed picture on the shelf. She stared dead in her eyes.

"Everything."

She smiled again and placed the picture back.

"Well, that's my cue. Wouldn't want to interfere with your holiday tradition. I still have to meet with my dates back in Dorado. I think I'm gonna get a big fuzzy Siberian hug."

She arrived at the tombstone. The years have eroded some of the cement and small cracks have appeared here and there. She dusted of the snow that have accumulated atop it. She placed the rose on the center of the ground.

She sighed. This is one of the urges that she can't shake-off. It's better than being idle in her castle.

She spent Christmas in the middle of the cemetery. Her chest tightening and her heart having barely painful twinges.


End file.
